


Darkest Part Of Me

by Sakumi



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bad things happen to Hiccup, Bad things happen to Hiccup's friends, Bad things happen to Toothless, Emotionally ravaged Hiccup, Graphic Depictions of Feelings, Horrible choices born of trauma, Masturbation, Other, PTSD, self doubt, self hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-11 06:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakumi/pseuds/Sakumi
Summary: Hiccup can't escape the worst part of him, and it drives him in the worst way possible.





	Darkest Part Of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evilwriter37](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Infernal Fascination](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636351) by [evilwriter37](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37). 



> Don't hate me :(  
> Or at least don't hate me too much. Also, I never get anything right first try, so if I mucked up some continuity errors or grammar please do tell me.  
> This is really heavy and explicit stuff, same as Infernal Fascination itself, so do be warned.  
> Takes place after chapter 80.

Hiccup was beside himself after the fitful and unfulfilling sleep he had endured last night. For all the near-forgotten, soul comforting peace of mind that Toothless' close presence _should_ bring, his entire body sought after the feeling of being held while he slept. He had grown so accustomed to having Dagur's strong haired arms wrapped around him and it was all he could do to hide his silent tears and abused, scrawny form under the blankets to try and sleep. He kept himself turned away from his dragon the entire night.

Toothless had nudged him a few times, and he had pretended to be asleep until the concerned Night Fury finally gave up and took his customary place on his heat stone.

His dreams were incoherent, but that was okay. He was a whole lot more prepared to deal with blurred and fragmented snippets of being held down and abused than actual vivid memories. As he woke, Hiccup could swear there was the faint smell of Dagur's musk clinging to his skin, and he threw the covers back with a shock. He was half-expecting to find red hairs dotted throughout his sheets, as though Dagur had somehow made it to Dragon's Edge and snuck into his room to sleep with him once more. A noise to his right made him jump, and throw the sheets back over himself to hide.

Toothless warbled at him, crooning a sweet noise in concerned affection. Hiccup tried to relax.

"I'm sorry, Toothless."

The dragon pawed slowly to him, looking ready to stop if Hiccup gave the word. His head was lowered slightly, pale green eyes hesitant.

"You're so clever, and you're so perceptive, too. I should have known you would be this..."

" _Rrrowwwl?"_

"Respectful."

The shame and guilt burned a hole inside. His nerves still as frayed as ever, he can't help think of how long he had left Toothless, the pain it must have caused. The young viking holds out a hand to the Night Fury and smiles, happy for the moment, at least. If anyone would touch him, it would be Toothless. His partner and best friend, the opposite of Dagur in nearly every way. The warm, smooth scales under his hand spoke back to a thousand happy memories. All the hardships they had endured, the challenges they faced and all the ones to come. Toothless' touch was life, and his wet tongue running over his skin was happiness.

The light feeling rises from his chest, overtakes him. Before he completely understands the feeling enveloping him it does so, until he is so ecstatic he can't stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

"I love you, bud! I love you I love you I love you!" And he laughs back at the chortling dragon saying the same thing right back at him with his entire face. He knew it as much as he knew himself, the tilt in Toothless' head, the wide eyes and quivering jawline that showed just how _crazily adorable_ , how _perfect_ his best friend could be.

"I don't want us to be apart ever again..."

They stayed together for a long time, as long as Hiccup could hold his arm around Toothless' large neck without falling asleep once more. The contented dragon rested himself on the floor with his neck draped onto Hiccup's bed so he could drink in the warm feeling of the blankets that now scented of Hiccup. They must hold a trace of his own scent too, Hiccup muses, after his attempt at licking Hiccup right again. That was familiar, too. Hiccup's sheets used to always smell a bit like Toothless, because the dragon was a part of every aspect of his life, always close by.

At some point the twins barged into the room, disturbing the peace as much as they possibly could. Hiccup understood that the twins would be the twins, even after all of the many things that had changed their world; Hiccup's ordeal, Tuffnut's pairing with Snotlout, the brief war they lived through. The two fools were still as unpredictable and annoying as ever. More appetizing than their sudden and loud appearance was the food they brought with them. He suddenly felt just how ravenous he was, and grabbed it out of Tuffnut's hands once the blond idiot started going on about sheep and wouldn't stop.

Clearly the two were happy just to annoy him again, so he allowed while he ate, throwing in the occasional comment and even one or two jabs.

After he ate, Hiccup felt full, yet incomplete. His memories of Dagur, etched into his mind deep and scarring by the physicality and mental anguish, taunted the back of his subconscious incessantly. He was already feeling the presence of his former captor's ghost taking hold when the twins left, only faintly recognizing the "Kay, we're gonna feed T now, catchya in a bit."

For all the other's apparent kindness and support, Hiccup couldn't shake the feeling that they thought less of him. Much, much less. These had been his closest freinds, in that other life, before Dagur stripped him of his humanity. He had tried to tell them, to make them understand what to him was completely obvious: He was nothing. Nothing but a personal chamber boy for Dagur, and the bruises and branding proved it beyond all doubt. How could they still like him, let alone begin to have any semblance of respect for Hiccup the  _Useless?_   He had never felt as ashamed and broken since the worst days of his childhood, when the Thawfest games had stripped any small pride he had and left him wanting to sink into the ground, never to be found again.

He was incomplete. He was full in his stomach, but there was another hole inside him. A hole only Dagur could fill, that only Dagur had _wanted_ to fill. Before he had consciously recognized it, there were hands stroking him. His pants were down and his length was being stroked, firmly but expertly by a pair of manly, large hands. He heard the voice in his ear, _"You know what you_ _need_ ," _"You belong to me."_

"Yeesssss," he drawled, slow and primal. The base pleasure rose, took him over. This was what he needed, and he bucked into it with all he had. Now, it didn't matter what his rational mind considered 'depraved' or 'disgusting', and the freedom of that drew him in, deeper and deeper.

There was a familiar pressure at the base of his spine, and instinct told him that pressure would give him what he craved if he let it. The husky, wanting voice whispered to him in lust, _"I'm going to take my right now, you little slut. You want this so bad right now, don't you? It's all you can think about."_

It was true. It was a truth above all others, and he proclaimed the truth of it so that it would fill that emptiness within him that had been lost. Between his pants and moans Hiccup cried to Dagur, pleading him to pound him like the slave he was. His face burned red, a guilty embarrassment burning through his every fibre. This only added to the arousal, reminding him what a dirty little slut he was.

He felt his cheeks being parted, a soft finger working itself into past the initial reluctance and brushing against his sensitive inner walls. The sensation was intense, righteous and long needed. Not long after it had found it's housing another brushed against his hole and skillfully slid in to stretch him and probe against his pressure spots. Lost in the pleasure and underlying soft pain, Hiccup bucked and writhed gently against the intrusion, simultaneously moaning out his pleasure and need for Dagur's thick cock.

_"Prove yourself a good buttslut to Dagur and I'll give you what you need."_

He did.

Hiccup moaned out just how good Dagur's fingers felt in his straining passage, how much he needed to be taken like this, have his ass abused and his prostate battered. As he bucked back against the wonderful pressure of the fingers, he faintly sensed another stretch him wider, than another. He sped his motions, driven and carried by the undeniable mix of arousal, pleasure and lust until that pressure built to a earth-shattering climax and he was left panting in exhaustion, riding the high with shaky, uncertain gasps.

He was a mess, he realized after a few minutes. He had ruined his sheets thoroughly with both this and last night's fevered bouts, and the evidence showed all over his hands. He wanted to hate himself for giving into the need, but the fact was that he had been conditioned to this so thoroughly that it had pierced him to the core and even now he craved it. His mind split between the equal fear of being discovered like this and the undeniable knowledge of how good it would feel to do it again. He was so used to continued bouts of rough sex, and this last session had not nearly been enough.

A noise at the stairs made him stop and freeze. He put the urges, the fears and desires on hold to brace himself for the greatest new concern in his life: His trusted friends.

What if they found him like this? He panicked as the sounds grew louder, footsteps climbing up to his loft. He hurriedly wiped his hands clean on the edge of the blanket, threw the window open as much as he could manage with his limited mobility, and drew the covers up just as Astrid entered the room.

She was beautiful, he saw, gingerly stepping into his room with her trademark bangs over her shining blue eyes.

"Hey. How're you feeling?"

"I - I'm okay. I don't want - I don't want anyone close right now, if that's okay."

Astrid gave something between a scoff and a laugh, though it was clearly from nerves and a somewat painful awkwardness that had arisen between them. She raised the plate and cup she was holding to indicate why she was there.

"Brought you some snacks I made, and some water. _You_ are going to get alot of rest and get a whole lot stronger."

"Yes Ma'am." Hiccup fired off a one-handed salute.

She nodded in agreement and walked out backwards, closing the door with a _thunk_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Over the next few weeks Hiccup tried to reason with himself. One side of his consciousness made some very compelling arguments, about loyalty, friendship and trust. Another had the backing of his entire physical being, the desperate and unrelenting need he had to be held and used like a common whore. He wanted to be pushed down into a mattress and _plowed_ , revel in the sensation of having his ass reamed and the accompanied searing pain and pleasure that accompanied it. He needed Dagur. He needed Dagur to put an and to all the confusion he felt. Before he came back to Dragon's Edge, the world was a known thing. Now, It shuddered and buckled beneath him, and the reality of what he had become against what he once was threatened to rip it apart completely.

This infuriated and confused him to no end. For all Hiccup had been through, the challenges he had overcome and enemies bested, he had lost to himself. Many times he had proven that he could overcome dangerous and foreboding tasks despite his small and scrawny frame, but here was something inside his own mind that his creativeness and intuition couldn't solve.

He kept the same routine, satisfying his uncontrollable urges in private whilst telling his friends that he was recovering alright. He needed the physical release, because the only other thing that would keep him sane was alcohol. Hiccup didn't want alcohol. Alcohol would slow his healing, and slowing his healing would mean it would take longer to get back to Dagur. He had been trying to tell himself that's not what he wanted, but it was. A few times he considered telling someone about this horrible _thing_ possessing him, this _other self_ that craved pleasure in a way that could not be halted or denied. As tempting as it would be to unburden like that, he knew they would respond in the same way they did when he explained how tainted and ruined he was.

One small comfort was the hot bath, placed in the corner of the room within easy reach. This made it simple enough to clean himself up (and he found himself doing so twice a day) with water that was easy heated by Toothless' plasma blast. Harder to deal with was the dragon himself. Hiccup found himself growing increasingly irritated at the over affectionate Night Fury, who insisted on being at Hiccup's side at as many hours of the day as he could manage. The worst moments came when his conflicting emotions, caught between a binding love to his close partner and best friend - and the need to be alone and not subject Toothless to the side of himself Dagur had created - caused him to burst with anger and take that violence out on Toothless, shouting and shoving the dragon away. This happened several times, and after each he hated himself more and more.

Fear that his friends and family suspected his true feelings haunted him through each day, just as much as Dagur's memory. As he regained his strength, he tried to distract himself from the overwhelming arousal that built in his loins, fueled by thoughts of rough hands on him and a chain around his ankle. With increasing confidence, each day he drove himself to walk a little further, build his muscles a little more. He ate alot, talked to Toothless about how much they would fly once he had the strength.

Gobber was delighted to have him in the workshop at Dragon's Edge, and although many of the clan had returned to Berk once it was clear there were no more attacks coming, his mentor stayed to bond with Hiccup over their shared trade of forging steel, weapons and gear. Hiccup already had many tailfins for Toothless, but he created many more as the days went on. When he felt strong enough he may be able to use it, he crafted a new flightsuit from all new materials and showed it, with pride, to Toothless, who gave a dragon's version of " _Oooohhh, wooooooow."_

His favorite tailfin he had designed was pure black, an exact shade to match Toothless' dark scales. He had made the flightsuit the same color, a homage to his closest partner and best friend. Every day he showed his appreciation to Toothless, making up for lost time by scratching Toothless in his favorite spots. Once, he even licked the dragon back the same way Toothless often licked him, overcome by love for his Night Fury and joyous at the prospect of flying.

On a fresh and sunny morning, he strapped the new tailfin to Toothless and donned his new flightsuit. It was clear that his band of Dragon Riders were apprehensive about this next step in his recovery, but Hiccup reminded them that he was still their leader and the first to ride a dragon in the first place. The dragons all gathered around, too. When Meatlug nudged at Hiccup's leg, he pet her dutifully.

"She's just a little worried, is all!" Fishlegs stammered. "You do get a little worked up at times, don't you girl? It's because you care so much."

"Uh, NO." Snotlout interjected, "It's because she's an emotional little princess who doesn't know what it's like to be REAL. Like me and Hooky."

"I _KNOW_ what's best for my dragon," Fishlegs declares, glaring at the brutish teen and his ambivalent Monstrous Nightmare. When Snotlout raises a fist at him, he backs away a step, still scritching Meatlug's head.

Hiccup gives a wave to the group and gives flight. The rest of them follow at a close yet respectable distance. Hiccup and Toothless are the best of fliers, and the truth of it takes hold in every coordinated action and synchronized movement they make as one. Soon, they have moved on from reaffirming the basics of joint flight and start to take on more complicated maneuvers.

They fly, and everything else loses meaning. It doesn't matter how long they do so, what ground they cover. The experience is everything Toothless and Hiccup love, and they revel in it, making flight their lifeblood and purpose.

Hiccup realizes with a rush of euphoria that they have reached a very important place by mere chance. He had initially set out over the ocean to better drink in the feeling of open air and the great expanse that makes flying such a freeing experience...

Though the moment they arrived at Berk's shore, he was jolted by a very quick burst of shock followed by warm nostalgia. _This_ collection of seastacks on the west side of the island, not to far from Raven Point, was where they had first flown by feel and technique, after he lost the set of flying instructions at the end of an overconfident and daring flight pattern.

_That_ was a wonderful memory, always treasured between the two of them as the moment flying together had turned form an uncertain thing to something amazing and complete. From that point onward, Toothless and Hiccup were  _One,_ and the sensations of adrenaline, force, love and shared trust were their bond.

Hiccup felt Toothless smiling underneath him. The dragon chortled quietly as they looked down at the maze of rocks and turbulent water.

"You planned this, didn't you? You brought us here."

_"Aurwwww."_

Hiccup feels the emotion welling up behind his eyes. If Toothless senses the silent tears that start to run down his face, he says nothing.

"Yeah. Uh, thanks, Bud."

_"Grrrrowwwwwww?"_

 "Okay, okay! Big lump of scales, relax!"

He looked around for the rest of the group. In the distance, there was the distant sound of _mayhem_ , and it carried a tone only possible from the twins. Hiccup could instantly and clearly picture Astrid and Fishlegs trying to stop whatever was happening, and Snotlout making some snide remark whilst the twins did _whatever._ He didn't have time to worry about that. This time was for Us. Toothless and Hiccup needed this.

He flicks the footpedal and leans down into Toothless' nape. His dragon takes the signal instinctively, shifting his wings and leaning forward. They are _flying,_ and right now it's like they never stopped. The rush of the wind and the sensation of speed are all they need, and in a practiced dance of shifting body weight, making small adjustments and the occasional barrel roll it's easy to make diving through perilous narrow gaps look like fish pie.

Hiccup whoops as they come out of the naturally formed obstacle course, pumping his fists in the air. The start of their day flying together has only just begun, but _what a rush_ and _how sorely needed_ it was...

 

* * *

 

 

Astrid sighs a breath, half relief, half frustration. With half the buildings on Dragon's Edge roasted and the twins securely locked into sawing new timber under Gobber's supervision, the situation seemed stable. Still, anger coursed through her at both the twins and herself for getting so distracted to let such a thing happen in the first place. It was, she supposed, her fault for letting her mind wander. They had been following Hiccup one second, then just after leaving the island a shout had gone up and a blazing fire instantly drove her attention from their task of following Hiccup and Toothless. Barf-and-Belch apparently had come down with an allergy that caused them to cough out gas and sparks simultaneously, although how this had manifested at such an inopportune time and why the twins had been flying so low as to catch a passing building on fire were unknown.

Hypothesis was that Tuffnut had given them something they really should not eat but very much wanted  that caused such a reaction. Astrid had other things on her mind.

A pained guilt ran through her, deeper each day for the split in her feelings towards her two lovers. One, she would have always believed to be by her side. Hiccup was her best ally, and from the moment he had shared his knowledge of dragons and flight with her to the exact point he was kidnapped that was how it was. Hiccup was clever, intuitive and resourceful. He had brought the war with the dragons to an end almost single-handedly, and he was a kind and thoughtful leader. All of these qualities had drawn her into a steady infatuation with him that she could have not imagined ever ending.

Now, Hiccup could never think of himself as a leader. He had used that reason a few times in these past weeks to get what he wanted, mainly privacy, but it was clear as day that he had done so with disbelief. It sank her heart a little lower each time he insisted how inhuman he had become, and her repeated attempts to sway him otherwise had only resulted in him blocking her out more and more.

It became increasingly clear that there was a wall that had risen between them, but she had no idea how to start knocking it down. Hiccup would know. He would have some clever way of doing it, if only he had the inclination or the means. It was hard not to blame him for this, hard not to think of him as the same man he once was, for whom such behavior would seem ridiculous. But how clear the trauma Dagur had put him through, how deeply he had scarred and ruined _her Hiccup_.... It sent shivers down her spine and ignited a terrible rage at that twisted son of a bitch.

She had been pondering this, Stormfly chittering below her as she did, with her gaze locked on Heather. This was the crux of the issue; she was able to hold this love, simultaneously, for two of her most trusted friends, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Yet all she felt was guilt, emanating from somewhere in her core. The guilt knew that if she was faithful to Hiccup, dedicated all her love to him, she could find a way to fix him and talk like they used to.

This was a point she had mused to Heather, one of many nights sharing their warmth in the same bed. The irony was not lost on her, that she could discuss anything and anything with a girl who was more often absent from their group and sisters with the enemy, and hardly talk to the leader of their group who she had known since childhood as a clanmate.

Heather, like many others, urged her to let Hiccup take his time. When his wounds were still so freshly healed, it was unwise to try to delve into the shattered psyche and myriad canyons of hurt that remain of his mind. With enough time and supportive comfort from his close friends he would return to normal. Then he would open up and let them inside.

The truth of those words struck a chord. Astrid had almost ruined everything with her impatience and curiosity a long time ago, when she stumbled on Hiccup and Toothless in the forest. Had she told Stoick and the other Berkians about a real Night Fury living near Ravens Point, Toothless would have been killed and the war with the dragons still ongoing. This was one of many instances where her forceful nature had let her down, so she held it down and let her former(?) boyfriend be.

And worried.

 

* * *

 

 

Hiccup smiled at Gobber, thanked the man for all his help and told him to say hello to his father for him.

"Aye, lad, an' wha' a proud bugger he'ill be, to knew his son got beat down and is risin' like a- eh- stubborn yak!"

Gobber threw the loop of rope holding the ship in place and hoisted the sail. With him was a few others, notably Gustav, who had hung around for as long as he was wanted, until he wasn't, and then a fair bit after that. With the sun setting Hiccup looked back up towards his hut at the top of the cliff, and yawned, quietly glad he could do so authentically.

Toothless echoed the sentiment at his side, purring slightly as Hiccup leaned on him for balance and support. Hiccup, tense as he was, tried to force himself to relax. It was tonight he had to appear the most natural, make it look like any other day.

"Time to hit the hay, I guess. Can I walk you home?"

Hiccup bristled a little at Astrid's question, although it wasn't completely unexpected. There was a dormant part of himself that wanted to take Astrid not up to his hut, but to one of the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Together, they would watch the sunset and talk together as lovers, as it had been once. They  would snuggle together and bathe in the fiery orange glow of the sun as it hit the mirror's edge and set the sky to vivid searing red, then purple-blue, then black. They could lie like that together for awhile, and find what they had lost. This was a fleeting thought, unknown to the dominant force of desire that willed him elsewhere.

"Uh, sure."

To his surprise, Astrid reached out her hand. The action stalled him, and he instantly recognized with a stunned clarity how alien human interaction had become to him. His mind recognized the gesture as something he himself had done, reaching out his hand to someone he wanted so badly to connect with. Hiccup was not a dragon, though, and he could neither nuzzle his snout into this hand **_or_** grasp it with his own. Words escaped him, so he simply shook his head, and pushed a little at the back of Toothless' head to tell him to start walking.

 

...

 

After an hour or two the whole of Dragon's Edge was quiet. Hiccup knew how to be stealthy. A skill he had picked up when he first discovered Toothless, and had to hide his actions, he had honed it into an art whilst also learning aspects of stealth from Toothless, a naturally stealthy dragon. He also had an innate understanding of preparation, and used this even while he struggled with his own inner struggle to prepare for the task ahead.

Dagur had manipulated him, broken him and bent his mind. He was a master of psychological torment and trickery. He had picked up some of this. Hiccup had healed better than he ever could have expected, but hidden this fact from his friends. He had overplayed his own hurt and exhaustion to make them think he was not capable of doing what he was about to do. Already he had escaped from Dagur by gaining his trust and betraying it, and it had been an action that reinforced his own failure. If he could not even be a good slave, what use was he? This was mixed and reinforced by his interactions with Bryn. Hiccup had said, had known, that he hated Dagur, that he could never love him, and yet he had failed even the lowliest expectation given to him; to stay put and be fucked like a good slave.

Hate burned within him, but he used it as fire for what he needed to do, rather than something to cripple him as it had done. He hated Dagur, deeply and completely, more than he had hated anyone previously and more than he thought he  _could_ hate. Only when he had been brought back to Dragon's Edge did he realize he hated himself  **more**. 

Dagur was awful, and his friends had told him that he had no idea what real love is. Neither did Hiccup. He thought he had loved Astrid, but a few months without her and she had left him. The memory of how he had left his hut one night, restless, to hobble around the walkways of their base, and he happened to sneak a glimpse of something in Astrid's hut. It was awful, he knew to eavesdrop, and spy. But he had done so many awful things now. The fact that Astrid had moved on, found companionship with Dagur's _sister_ , of all people, reaffirmed how ruined his world had become.

If Astrid didn't need him anymore, and he could leave with Toothless, he had no reason to stay here, in this purgatory. All Dragon's Edge was now was an empty shell full of memories of his past life. It had been a happy life, for the most part. He had good friends and a meaningful purpose.

Now, he was branded. The Law of the Aisles, Dagur, his own knowledge all told him things could never be like that again. More than anything, he needed an end to the torment of _want_. With Dagur, as a slave, there was no confusion over who he was, about whether he should have the urges he does. Dagur would tell him, with a voice full of conviction, that he was meant to want it. Hiccup was a slut, completely submissive and pathetic. Only Dagur knew that. How he wished to hear it again, from the only person who understands. The only person he hates as much as himself.

 

* * *

 

 

Toothless was still warbling in a small, concerned tone. His tail flicked slightly, his ears perked at the obvious intention that Hiccup had. He couldn't help but want to fly, as that was what he was made for, and a desire as inbuilt to his being as his heart. What concerned him was the _deceit_. He did not think of it as that, for that was a human word and he only knew the human words he had picked up through observation. He was a very smart dragon, though, as Hiccup always reminded him, and the concept of _deceit_ was familiar to him as both a human thing and, very occasionally, as a dragon thing... Although dragons did not engage in it with the breath and scope that humans do and so do not recognize it for the most part.

As they walked further from the village and into the forest, he grew increasingly concerned. Hiccup was a very smart human, as Toothless always reminded _him_ , but he had done some very stupid things and many times almost died due to it. Toothless could not imagine Hiccup dead, any more than he could himself. He needed Hiccup as a matter of fact, as much as he needed his own wings and feet. Thus, whenever Hiccup would do anything dangerous it shook him and angered him to varying degrees. The excitement and adrenaline of flying dangerously is a thrill, and the happiness and joy that his human received from it doubled Toothless' own felicity. He would never deny a danger that can bring such joy.

The danger Hiccup was seeking now was not one that could bring joy, he sensed. If he could, he would stop Hiccup in his tracks and take him back to his bed by force.

He couldn't. He couldn't deny Hiccup _anything_ , at all.

So when Hiccup lays a hand on his back and jumps onto his saddle, he obliges. He takes off at Hiccup's bequest and tries to let the simple and pure joy of flying overtake his fears. Yet, everything in his rider's demeanor, from his posture to his clothing and flightsuit, dark as night... Even the tailfin made to blend with the night sky.

It's wonderful, being up here, just the two of them. Yet he can only think of the ones they are leaving behind. There's an angle to Hiccup, something he's trying to hide from Toothless that says that this flight is serious, and their journey will not be a short one. They cut through the night sky as well as they ever have, and it's no wonder after what they accomplished yesterday. There is no doubt in Toothless' mind that right now they could outmaneuver and outfly any enemy or danger they encountered. With this thought in mind, it is a little easier to carry the small human on his back wherever he may want.

 

...

 

After a few hours of flying they reach a dark island, abandoned by what appears to be a clan somewhat like Hiccup's. They search the abandoned campsite for quite some time, although it's unsure what Hiccup is looking for. After a while Toothless starts piece a few things together. Although he may not be as smart as Hiccup, he can tell that this place is in fine condition, and perfectly livable. Whoever did set up all these tents in the first place meant for them to last awhile, and that they did. He could tell from the look and smell of them that they had stood here for quite some time, and the well-worn paths between tents and scattering of debris all over the site told just how many had been here. Toothless didn't understand numbers, but  he did understand _many._

So why did they all leave? Hiccup regularly mentioned something called 'strategy', a human concept sometimes involving deceit and sometimes 'war', another human term. This concept left Toothless weary and tired - to try and wrap his scaled head around and clumsily grasp in his powerful yet untactful claws was something that bordered on the very limits of what his species may be capable of. But he had a feeling this may be the case. The humans of this clan left because that was their 'strategy'.

Hiccup had spent a strangely excessive amount of time in one particular tent. Like most of the others, it was still standing, and it's size comparative to the others and apparent high quality made it seem important.

There was a strange smell on many of the surfaces, and it took Toothless a moment to distinguish just what it was. It was the same smell Hiccup had interlaced with his own familiar scent when he returned. Toothless hated that smell. It was as _wrong_ as the bit of raised skin on Hiccup, that Toothless could tell had _hurt_ , and all the discoloration over Hiccup's fragile skin that said he had been hurt, very much, many times. The thought scares him, and _that_ hurts in itself. He pads over to Hiccup and nudges at the young man's shirt, trying to lift it so he can lick at the scars and marks. Hiccup had told him they were permanent, there forever, but that was something he could not accept. Whoever had done that, whoever had hurt Hiccup so bad and put their smell on him, deserved to pay. And Hiccup deserved to be loved, and be healthy, and not have any marks on him that said, forever, how much he had been hurt.

"It's not right," Toothless says. Hiccup won't understand the words, but he will understand the meaning. He nudges at the abused skin with his large forked tongue, willing it to heal, to return _right_.

Hiccup looks at him with sad eyes, as if affirming the sentiment in his very look.

Toothless can't look away from those eyes. He had peered at his own reflection many times in still water and seen a glimpse of Hiccup in that visage. The teen had the same color to his eyes, only more vivid, and it was a fact that Toothless mirrored to their shared life. To see Hiccup hurt was to hurt himself, and the pain Hiccup endured seemed to seep into his dragon's soul as a consequence. He kept running his tongue over Hiccup until he couldn't bear it any longer and the exhaustion from the long flight here finally caught up with him.

Padding into a corner, he curls into himself, making sure to leave a small hollow near his chest if Hiccup should wish to join him.

 

* * *

 

 

"Dagur, you idiot."

He had left many things behind. Many, many stacks of paper lay all over the table. The draws were still full of various items, things Dagur always had on hand and could obtain from anywhere. Of course, his cot was still here. This was where had had been abused. Punished. A million different traumatic memories lay within this tent. To return here was madness, right? But then, where else could he go? His life had no meaning, and he was doing the right thing by returning to Dagur. If he didn't, Dagur would hate him. He would look to get revenge, and hurt one of his friends, or family. He might even kill Toothless for real this time.

Hiccup tried to stay focused despite the rush of muddled emotions running over him. He wasn't afraid, exactly, but he was very tense. He had just taken the biggest step towards 'normality' and it was the biggest decision he had had to make in his life. Past Hiccup would have never made this decision, never considered it. He never would have wanted his friends and family to worry, feel the pain of loss. What they didn't understand was **_that_** Hiccup was dead. He was a different being now. When he had dove into the darkest parts of himself and attempted, desperately, to but his old self back together, he had failed. That act had cemented his person into what he was now.

What he was now was not a person.

They should just say their goodbyes and let that Hiccup die.

This knowledge and emotion was matched by an equal amount of lust. He had felt it stirring the moment he had entered the tent, and the sight and memories of the chain, the cot, Dagur, had all heightened it. The one thing that was missing from the equation was physical contact, and when Toothless had **_licked him_**.... If only Hiccup could feel a tongue like that, running over him and over his-

 

**_-!-_ **

_-Hiccup-_

_...  
_

_-Don't you ever do that again-_

_...  
_

Shame flushed him. Genuine shame, not the kind that pushed him to fuck harder during sex. The voice in his head had startled him, but it had been his voice. He hadn't chastised himself like that in awhile, but it was more than called for, and he found himself relieved he had. To think of Toothless in that way, to break the bond of trust and friendship between them would be a knife through the one last wholesome thing in his life. He had been defiled, broken and ruined. He didn't have to do the same to Toothless, even if it was only in his thoughts.

He continued looking over the place. He had time, at least until the Dragon Riders awoke and found him missing. Would they come right here? The whole reason Dagur had abandoned this place was because it was too easy a place to look. He had already been bested here, by a small raiding party half his age. He was most likely back at Berzerk, enjoying the good life he had described to Hiccup. Perhaps he should do the same. No, he definitely should. That was where he belonged. That was what Dagur had said.

He had to sate his curiosity first. There were so many documents laid bare over this table, many of them with accompanying diagrams. The mess said alot about Dagur. He truly was a brawn over brains kind of guy, and really not one for taking small details into account, like cleaning up after yourself when you leave.

A design for a jeweled collar? The memory, faint but recognizable, returned to him. _“You know, you’d be really pretty with a nice jeweled collar. I’ll have to get you one sometime.”_ It had seemed like an idle comment at the time, but this design was intricate, and splendid. So many precious gems studded the entire length of this collar, all of them exceedingly valuable. Even for a chieftain like Dagur, this would cost a **_lot_**. He would be spending as much as an army eats in a year on one token for his personal slave. Was that _love?_ It sure spoke to a mountain of effort. Dagur craved power and wealth, but the amount of potential power _or_ wealth he would be giving up for one piece of jewellery...

A small note at the bottom of the page said 1/10. Were there 10 different designs? Maybe Dagur had already chosen one and was commissioning it right now. _Or_ maybe there were 10 pages of blueprint for the one design, because Dagur cared that much about getting the design right so he could show Hiccup just how much he loved his chained, collared buttslut. Then he would have Hiccup with a beautiful, shining collar. The collar would hook up to either a chain, or a leash, and Dagur could hook the chain up to a post, or lead Hiccup around at his will. That way, Hiccup would always know that he was there to be loved, wanted. More than _anything_ , because he was Dagur's Hiccup, and nobody else understood what he needed like Dagur. When he was not assisting Dagur in council business, the collar would be his mark as a pleasure slave. When he was assisting Dagur with formal business, the collar would shine and gleam like nothing else, making all the lesser folk jealous of him.

Hiccup nearly laughed out loud at how foolish he had been, wanting to be Chief of some tiny island in the archipelago. Being his father's son was nothing compared to the amount of wealth and pleasure that Dagur could give him, and all his efforts to deny that had been to his own detriment. His imagination ran wild with the idea of a massive castle, a resplendent throne room and lavish personal quarters. With all that luxury, all that comfort, how could he not be happy? The idea filled him with hope, enough to override the murky waters of despair that always threatened to drown him. If he could fill his now nonexistent life with enough pleasure and nice things, things that Dagur would gladly and willingly give him, what doubt, what sadness could be left behind?

He was no longer human, left with nothing but a broken heart, mind and soul. But his body still worked. He still had Toothless, and he was absolutely sure that Dagur was still alive. He had to be.

There was something in one of the lower draws, a vial filled with clear, somewhat viscous liquid. He dripped some onto his fingers and inhaled. He hadn't consciously known it, but he had been searching for this. His hands went to his belt and he quickly fumbled it's latch, letting his pants drop to the floor with matching levels of excitement and relief. With a practiced hand, he applied the lube to his butthole. His fingers slipped in easily, the muscles still supple and loose after the repeated attention he had given the orifice over the last few weeks. His mouth widened in pleasure and his eyes fluttered in sensation. He moaned at the slick, wet feel of smooth digits probing his needy passage. How much he had needed this! He had never gone so long without satisfying this need, and it heightened the pleasure twice fold.  

Straining at the feel of warmth and pressure, he runs his other hand over his chest. As loud as Hiccup could be, he struggles to contains his moans. Panting and moaning at Dagur's touch was an ingrained reaction to anything sexual, but he bites down on his lower lip and stifles the sounds instead, tasting a small amount of blood. The feeling is intense, and he grasps for more, always more. Grasping a nipple between two fingers, he teases at first gently, then rougher and harder, until the pain rises to a point where he can imagine Dagur's hand pinching him like this.

He pushes his other hand in a steady, slow rhythm, working the lube into his hole and through his insides so the entire surface of his inner walls is slicked. It's almost a waste to have himself prepared so thoroughly and not have someone here to take him, but the thought of a filling and satisfying cock pounding against his most sensitive areas makes him gasp nevertheless, and he has to bite down on his tongue again before he starts voicing his pleasure in earnest.

With his hole so thoroughly used and made to take insertions, Hiccup takes the idea of a large cock working his hole and making him it's bitch. He imagines Dagur telling him just how good he has been, that the huge member penetrating him belongs to his captor and lover. The vivid memories of the few times Hiccup had told Dagur that he _did_ love him back, and earnestly and passionately made love to the grizzled man fueled his motions, working Hiccup ever deeper into a frenzy.

Before long he's bucking against the hand in his ass, slowly but surely ramping up the sensation and tactile ferocity of it until he has worked every digit inside, and begins pumping up to the wrist. He writhes against the floor on his side with each push, ass bared to the world and entire body stretched so he can work his hand inside himself as far as possible. He bites on his lower lip a little harder each time, feeling the pleasure crest and flow with each movement of the pressure inside his lower abdomen, his prostate sending shivers of pleasure through his entire body.

He crashes against a wall, preventing climax. As vivid as his imagination is, there's something missing. His entire body shaking from the sheer physical sensation, Hiccup drags his wrist out, feeling it drag against his walls with immense pressure and pop from his ring leaving him panting once again. His whole body shudders, recovering from the amazing sensation. His mind hazed with lust and burning need, he finds the collar and snaps it shut around his neck. He bucks back against the pole and begs in a whisper to be fucked. With his eyes closed he can imagine it, Dagur teasing him open and pushing inside with wanton lust and unbridled need. It feels good, to be taken like this and know that he is giving, providing a good service. That's why he exists, why he's here.

His eyes flicker open a moment and what he glimpses at is not Dagur. Not even close.

Desperately he hopes this is his imagination, too.

But the sound that Viggo Grimborn makes is unmistakable. It's chiding, condescending.

He merely laughs at Hiccup for a while. It's a grating, unbearable sound. Then he speaks in a dark tone.

"I thought you were chained because Dagur left you here... But it's not that, is it? This is what you've become. You did this to yourself. It's almost a shame, really. But you will make a nice pet, I suppose."

 

 

 

  **End?**

 

**Author's Note:**

> -Worst Ending-  
> Or, alternatively  
> -You Lose-  
> Thanks you for reading! I love Infernal Fascination a whole lot, because I'm a real fan of tragedy stories. I'm also a fan of happy endings, so I don't believe in this canon and I eagerly await the true ending to IF. I originally meant Hiccup to find Dagur and live 'Happily Ever After', if Hiccup could make himself believe he's happy with Dagur. But I feel this is the true worst ending. What worse fate could befall the hero than to be taken by a guy like Viggo Grimborn?
> 
> Some more thoughts;  
> I feel that certain stories can be paired up with songs that tell a similar story. I mentioned as a comment in one chapter of Infernal Fascination that it held similarities to Tool's "H", one of my favorite songs. If I were to pair DPOM with a song, it would be "Stricken" by Disturbed, a song I rediscovered a while back which seems to describe being attached deeply and not wanting it. "I am stricken and can't let you go." Take a look at the lyrics - It's like the person being sung about IS Dagur. I would also mention Creed - My Own Prison for the state of mind Hiccup is subjected to here. He has become a prisoner to his own tainted mind.
> 
> I originally was going to tag this M/M but it seems that would be technically incorrect I suppose?


End file.
